Cooking Pasta Like an Angry Woman
by chandeluresinitaly
Summary: Romano cooks pasta and thinks about stuff. Just a simple one-shot, nothing too special.


Okay wow hi

This is just a silly one-shot I wrote about Romano. I wrote it a long time ago, and now I decided to submit it here. Enjoy u

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><p>A big grey pot stood on a stove, currently bearing a few cups of boiling hot water. Now, why would this be?<p>

Because Lovino was making pasta for lunch.

The Italian was home alone, his brother had stepped out to do some shopping. Lovino was glad, he liked his alone time. It was especially a nice time to do some cooking by himself.

Once the Italian noticed the water was boiling, he ripped open a box of linguine and poured it into the pot. As the noodles began to slowly sink underneath the water, Lovino sat down at the table by the window to wait a little. He was bored as hell, so he decided to let his mind wander.

There was a world conference next week that he needed to prepare for. He knew what suit he wanted to wear, and his notes had to be printed out. Lovino had only hoped his idiot of a brother Feliciano was preparing for the conference too.

Feliciano.

That stupid, useless, annoying younger brother of his. Always screwing things up and yet not having a care in the world. With his dorky yet cheery attitude and his huge smile that he wore wherever he went. Feliciano can be such a pain, always getting himself into trouble and getting someone to help him. Mostly from that muscly potato. What was that bastard's name again? Dammit, the mere thought of that guy made him too pissed to remember. Larry? Leonard? Oh, right.

Ludwig.

That stupid potato bastard, with his annoying blonde hair and that serious look he wore a lot. It's as if the moron never smiles. How could his moron brother be "best friends" with a loser like him? The mere idea escaped him. The bastard would hang around Feliciano and yell at him when he did something stupid, and boss him around when he was being lazy. "Asshole, that's MY job." Lovino thought to himself. It even bothered the older Italian of how more frequently the potato was coming over the house to visit Feliciano. He would have to scold his idiot brother about that later. The worst part was, the potato freak had a brother. His brother was ten times worse. His name?

Gilbert.

That loud mouth asswipe keeps bursting into the house unannounced, talking about God knows what. He mostly liked to talk about how awesome he was, but in reality he just seemed like a really annoying prick. If only I could push him and his stupid brother off a cliff, Lovino thought to himself. It even got more annoying when the jerk kept trying repeatedly to be friendly with him. He once even called him cute! "Who the Hell does that shitface think he is?" Lovino said out loud.

Oh, wait.

Lovino almost forgot about the pasta.

He stood up and walked over to the stove. The linguine looked just about ready, but Lovino wanted to make sure. He took a spoon, scooped up some pasta, grabbed one strand, and threw it against the wall, imagining the wall being Gilbert's stupid face. The strand stuck to the wall.

Oh yeah. That'll show the dick for calling him cute.

Why, of all people, did Antonio have to be friends with that creep?

Stupid, dimwit Antonio.

The man that took care of Lovino ever since he was little, and to this day is still an annoying occurrence. Walking into his home with that big dumb grin, that happy attitude that nearly made Lovino sick, and his constant kindness towards the Italian. It's as if no matter what Lovino screamed or threw at him, Antonio stuck around, as if he really cared for the angry Italian man. Antonio would call him cute too, but it didn't seem as bothersome as it did coming out of Gilbert's mouth. In fact, he actually preferred Antonio to compliment him than anyone else. "Dammit, snap out of it!" Lovino berated himself. He doesn't like that stupid Spaniard, no way! He just…liked having him around, that's all! Enjoying the Spaniard's company and actually liking the Spaniard were two different things, right?

Right?

Lovino snapped out of his train of thought. Dammit, the pasta… he had almost forgotten about it again. He turned off the stove, poured the water out of the pot and into the sink, and pulled out a plate from the overhead cabinets. Damn, all that angry thinking made him more hungry.

He ate at the kitchen table, alone.

Suddenly, Lovino didn't like the fact that he was alone.

There was no one around to annoy him, no one to ask him why's this and where's that, and no stupid face for him to glare at. It was nice to be rid of these things at first, but now…

Shit.

"Maybe tomorrow I'll invite Antonio over to the house for lunch," Lovino said to himself. "And if Feli's around, he can join in too. If those stupid potato brothers are around too…well, why the fuck not. I guess I can tolerate their stupid faces this one time."

"Yeah. That sounds kinda nice."

Lovino then made a mental note to make the German brothers eat on the floor.


End file.
